


that which we call a rose by any other name (would suck a knob)

by bookworm1805



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm1805/pseuds/bookworm1805
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wouldn't think pisspot, sausage, and dope would be words of love, but to Gavin Free, they are. And Michael's the one who has to live with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that which we call a rose by any other name (would suck a knob)

**Author's Note:**

> un-beta'd and dedicated to my dear friend jess

You wouldn't think pisspot, sausage, and dope would be words of love, but to Gavin Free, they are.

And Michael’s the one who has to live with it.

*

“Oh, you absolute tosspot!” Gavin shrieks as Michael veers his car into the side of Gavin’s bike, flipping him off the highway and to his untimely death. Michael cackles as he reads the words “GavinoFree died” on his screen and everyone enjoys a laugh at their favorite idiot’s expense, as they are wont to do.

Michael shoots a smug grin at the boy to his right.

Gavin attempts a look of contempt, but the twist of his lips betrays his ever-present good humor and he merely shakes his head. “I’ll get you, my little Michael! You can run but you can’t hide!”

“Yeah? Bring it Dickie Bitch! You’re the one running, I’m in a fucking car.” Michael jeers back, and he takes off down the highway while Gavin is busy re-spawning and trying to find another car. Or, knowing him and how unendingly stupid he is, he’ll try for a bike again, even though the rest of them are in  _cars_  and keep  _murdering him_.

Idiot.

“Scrollocks! I’m stuck in a bleeding bench!  _Get off me you flumping plank!”_

Michael falls off his chair laughing.

*

“Fudge-sticks!”

Michael chokes on a laugh and ends up in a fit of coughs and giggles. “What’d you just say, Gavy-Wavy?”

“I died, Michael! I died!” Gavin exclaims, as if this isn't the tenth time he’s died in the level.

“ _Mi-coool, Mi-coool,”_  Geoff and Ryan croon in harmony.

Michael shakes his head and tries to stop smiling. “That’s ‘cause you suck, babe.”

Gavin is still outraged. “But look! Look at Ray! He’s got nineteen lives! I have  _one!”_

The rest of the gang stops trying to stifle their laughter, and Geoff lets out a particularly high pitched chortle. Michael can feel the force of Gavin’s pout on his face without turning to look at him.

“Yeah well, you know,” Ray shrugs.

No one knows, but that’s Ray.

“What’s Mario without Luigi, Michael?  _Hmm?”_   the Brit needles as he thumbs at his useless controller. “What are you without your Luigi?”

“I don’t know, more likely to survive the level?” he suggests blithely as he executes a successful jump over a man-eating flower.

Michael can feel the force of the pout amplified by ten, but he still holds his stoic expression and doesn't meet his friend’s eyes. Soon there’s a quiet whining sound coming from his right, and Michael finally lets his smile slip.

Mario stops running for a minute, jogging and hopping in place. “Come on, stupid, I’m waiting for you to spawn.”

The turn of Gavin’s expression is radical, even seen from the corner of his eye. Suddenly it’s like the sun is shining on Michael’s face, and Gavin bounces in his chair and chirps, “Thank you, little boy!” into his microphone as he generates on screen next to Mario.

“Team Nice Dynamite, Gav. Team Nice Dynamite.”

*

“Come at me, slags!”

“Dammit Gavin!” Michael half yells, half spits into the mic. “Fucking  _mute!_  You muted me!”

He whirls in his chair to kick at Gavin’s legs, and Gavin jumps and shrieks as he tries to back away. “Michael, Michael please!” he cries. He’s losing control of his character on screen, and Michael keeps kicking as Ray goes suspiciously quiet. “Michael stop! I’m gonna—I’m gonna!” Then suddenly Gavin’s character dies on screen, and Gavin is wailing and Ray is cheering and fleeing the scene of the crime. “Oh, you mincey pricks! You killed me!”

Having received his revenge, Michael wheels away and sits back in his chair for a moment. “Hey, I didn't do anything.” He turns back to the game. “That was all Ray.”

Gavin coughs and splutters. “You were battin’ away at my calves, you rinsy arsehole, that’s cheating!”

“Well you put me on mute, you little bitch!”

“In the  _game_ , you twat! You sought unfair revenge!”

“Well, to be fair, that’s probably the only way Michael will ever beat you,” Jack chimes in. “This may be the only game you’re actually good at, Gavin.”

Michael’s protests go unheard as Gavin preens, and he almost pushes the issue but doesn't. It’s true, this might be the only game Gavin is better at than the rest of them, and call him a softie but he doesn't want to take that from him. He’s such a blundering idiot the rest of the time, why not let the guy shine a little?

So he bows out gracefully. “Nah, he’s right though, I suck so much dick at Assassin’s Creed. Good job Gavers.”

Gavin turns to him with a small smile and this look on his face that stirs the butterflies in Michael’s stomach every time.

 “Thanks buddy.”

*

“Come on, it’s lunchtime, you donut.”

“ _You’re_  a donut,” Michael mutters back.

Gavin bursts out laughing. “Not up to your usual standards, eh my lovely little sausage?”

Michael spins his chair around to meet his smiling counterpart with a scowl. “I have to finish this by four, Gavin. I've been editing all damn day, I don’t have  _time_  for food or snappy comebacks, okay?”

He’s being an asshole and he knows it.

“Yeah, well, I’ll tell you what. If you come with me to lunch for twenty minutes, I’ll finish it for you.”

Then again, Gavin is the one person Michael’s never been able to scare off, no matter how much he yells or name-calls.

He meets Gavin’s eyes reluctantly. He doesn't want to agree, because that’s not fair for Gavin at all, but he’s so fucking exhausted, he just wants to eat a taco and sleep for a couple years. “Gav,” he starts, but he gets cut off.

“Come on,” Gavin implores. “I know you get sick of hearing your own voice screaming at you for hours on end. I, on the other hand, find it incredibly sexy.” He gives a cheesy eyebrow wiggle and hauls Michael out of his chair by the shoulder. “You need a break, and I need my Michael.”

Michael tugs his beanie further down his head in a rare show of self-consciousness, a typical reaction when dealing with Gavin’s bouts of unselfish kindness.

He lets Gavin lead him out of the building in silence, but once they hit the sidewalk he stops him with a hand on his wrist. “Thanks, Gavin.”

He trails his hand down Gavin’s and links their fingers together, so their palms rest warmly against each other.

Gavin’s eyes light up and he squeezes his hand.

“You’re my boy, Michael.”

*

“You cheeky knob, Michael!”

Michael grumbles as he stands over the stove and continues stirring. “Shut up.”

“No, really!” Gavin says as he steps up next to him. “I’m impressed. You did this for me?”

The steam is making Michael's face warm.That’s all. He’s not blushing. He’s really not.

“Shut up,” he mumbles again, for good measure.

Arms wind around his waist and pull him back against a lean torso. Gavin rests his chin on Michael’s head and gives a nuzzle.

Lips press against his temple in the shape of a smile.

“Thank you for the spaghetti, lovely boy.”

*

Moonlight shines in through the curtains, illuminating the room in a cool half-glow. The night is dark and quiet, and Michael settles into the blankets around him, curling up on his side.

Cold feet brush against his and he jolts, reaching around to groggily whack at whatever he can reach.

The feet don’t go away, and Gavin snuggles up behind him, wrapping an arm around his middle and pulling him close. Michael would protest, he really would, but Gavin’s skin is so warm and smooth and Michael’s blood naturally runs cold. He needs the body heat.

A nose brushes through his hair, lips settling in a kiss on the back of his neck.

He’s nearly asleep when Gavin speaks.

“Goodnight, love.”

Warmth tingles up his spine and down to his fingers and toes, heating him up from the inside out. He’d roll his eyes if he wasn't so tired, honestly, but his mouth muscles are much easier to control so he smiles instead.


End file.
